Kirk/Sulu/Chekov Fic: Delicate
Title: Delicate
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairings: Kirk/Sulu/Chekov and all permutations thereof
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~50,000
Summary: After an away mission goes awry, Kirk, Sulu, and Chekov are marooned on a strange, seemingly uninhabited planet.
Sulu has had nightmares about crashing since he was nine years old. First it was his bike, then the prop plane he learned to fly during high school, and lately it's the Enterprise, driving headlong into some furious sun. The nightmares are the only time he's ever afraid of failing on that level, and in the seconds after he wakes from them he feels ashamed of himself for his subconscious doubt. He knows, when he's awake, that he'll never crash.
And then one day he does, after a surprise attack is launched against him as he leaves Tybilliya. He's way off course and the radio is dead, not only jammed but fried by whatever weapon the Tybilliyian guerrilla forces used before he managed to escape their fire, his back thrusters blown off. Kirk is sitting next to him, screaming into his communicator as if someone will hear him way out here in the dead outer quadrants of space. Sulu knew they shouldn't have taken this mission. Kirk volunteered, and he brought Chekov, too, because Chekov is a genius and the Tybillyians lured them to their planet with a distress call about dark matter unearthed by miners. Now they've barely escaped with their lives, and they're going to die in space if Sulu doesn't break the atmosphere of a remote planet even Chekov can't identify and crash land onto whatever they find there. Chekov's ears are bleeding when he leans between Sulu and Kirk to look at the sparking monitors, which are showing nothing but warning messages and confused nonsense.
"Your ears," Sulu manages to say, and Chekov looks at him. Two hours before they boarded the shuttle to Tybilliya, they got into a fight. Sulu didn't want Chekov along on this mission. It's too dangerous. Chekov is too young. Chekov resented this, of course. Sulu caught Chekov's arm before he could storm away, and he kissed him, because it was the only way he knew how to explain the real reason he didn't want him in any danger. Chekov stared at Sulu with open wonder, his cheeks going pink, then he kissed Sulu back, sighing into his mouth with what sounded like relief, and Sulu had never in his life known happiness like that. Now they're going to die, and Chekov is looking at Sulu like he forgives him, but Sulu doesn't deserve to be forgiven. He should have been more calm and decisive during the attack. He shouldn't have tried to conserve energy by putting the back shields at eight percent. He should tell Chekov, now, before they crash, that he loves him more than flying and space and every star in every galaxy that they'll never see together.
"Hold on to something!" Kirk screams when they break through the atmosphere. Sulu wants to scoff, because, how helpful, but he can't make any sound at all, can only stare through the shuttle's front window at the planet that is rushing up to meet them as he yanks impotently at the controls. He can hear Chekov breathing even around the scream of the shuttle as it cuts across the purplish sky of the terraform planet below. He sees jungle and snow-capped mountains and rivers and an ocean. Yanking on the controls, he tries to steer the shuttle toward land.
"Sulu, isn't there an emergency chute?" Kirk screams.
"Only individual chutes!" Sulu shouts. Chekov is touching Sulu's shoulder now. Sulu doesn't want to die before he gets another chance to kiss him. "The shuttle's chute was melted in the blast that hit the back end!"
"Then the individuals, yeah?" Kirk says, getting up from his seat.
"There's no time!" Sulu shouts back. "We won't even get a chance to evacuate before --"
And then the treetops are right there, and Chekov is squeezing Sulu's shoulders, and Sulu is wishing he had time to turn around and look at him once more before they both die.
*
He wakes up to wet leaves and the sound of someone coughing. The shuttle is in pieces around him, and Kirk is to his left, up on his hands and knees, his head tucked to his chest. His clothes are ripped and bloody, but he seems okay. Sulu looks down at himself. There's a piece of jagged metal sticking out of his left ankle and making his whole leg throb with pain, but it's not very big, and when he pulls it out it comes away clean. Blood leaks from the cut like he's turned on a spigot, and he has to look away. Chekov is nowhere to be seen.
"No," he says, looking at the ruined shuttle craft. There's blood splattered on the front window. He doesn't understand how he and Kirk have survived, but if they have, Chekov must have, too. There are distant, unfriendly animal sounds coming from the jungle landscape around them as Sulu crawls toward the shuttle, his leg aching terribly. The planet's sun is still out, but the jungle is so thick that it feels like early evening within it, except for the patch of light that is streaming down through the hole that the shuttle tore in tree canopy.
"That was some landing, Sulu," Kirk says, laughing a little. He's on his knees now, looking around. "Where's little Chekov?" he asks, suddenly panicked, and the little is so devastatingly appropriate in this situation that Sulu stops in his tracks, afraid to look inside the shuttle.
"Chekov!" Kirk shouts, bounding forward to rip the ruined door away. Sulu can't read his expression when he looks inside; Kirk is always stony-faced when there's a job to do, whether it's saving someone's life or burying them properly. He hurries forward to help Kirk lift Chekov out of the shuttle, and when Chekov makes a little sound, a tiny, irritated moan of pain, Sulu struggles not to fall apart with relief. Chekov looks up at him blearily, sucking on his bleeding lip, and Sulu wants to believe in every all-powerful force every alien culture has ever worshiped, because it must be true, all of it, everything good that anyone ever hoped for. He all but wrenches Chekov from Kirk's arms and cradles him against his chest, bringing him away from the wrecked shuttle.
"Are you okay?" Sulu asks, kneeling down to look into Chekov's face. He's got a bruised cheek and that cut on his lip, and he's shaking terribly, but he seems relatively unharmed.
"I am okay, Hikaru," Chekov says, smiling weakly. Sulu wants to kiss his face a thousand times, but he can't bring himself to do it with Kirk watching, so he only squeezes him, trying to seem as if he's checking for further injuries.
"I can't believe we survived that!" Kirk says. Sulu is still staring at Chekov, who is smiling up at Sulu as if he's proud of him, and Sulu doesn't deserve that, either, but he'll take it.
"Where are we?" Sulu asks. He lets Chekov sit up, aware of the fact that he's been coddling him as if he's an infant.
"It is an uncharted planet, I believe," Chekov says as Sulu helps him to stand. Sulu can barely manage it himself, with his leg still leaking blood. Chekov notices this and bends down to examine the cut, then takes his shirt off to tie it around Sulu's ankle. Sulu has never seen Chekov in his undershirt before, and his arms are definitely not as delicate-looking as Sulu expected. Sulu is light-headed, thinking crazily of Chekov's arms at a time like this, and he stumbles back against the trunk of a tree. Chekov and Kirk both rush forward to steady him.
"Is he alright?" Kirk asks, slinging one of Sulu's arms around his shoulders.
"He has lost some blood, but this will stop the bleeding," Chekov says, bending down again to tighten the makeshift bandage around Sulu's ankle. "We should find a safe place to rest."
"Let's salvage what we can from this," Kirk says, approaching the shuttle. He comes away with the useless communicator and an emergency kit which is essentially just a portable replicator. It can't make food, but at least they can get simple medical supplies and maybe blankets from it. Chekov begins fooling with the busted control panel, pulling away components and shoving them into a canvas bag he got from the replicator.
"How long is that thing's battery life?" Sulu asks, nodding to the replicator.
"Should last for a few months if it was fully charged before take off," Kirk says. "Chekov -- what are you doing?" he asks as the control panel sparks and spits at Chekov, who yanks his hands away, cursing.
"These are parts we cannot replicate, Keptin," Chekov says. "Complex things we could use with your communicator to maybe contact someone."
"Well, just make sure it's not the wrong someone. We've still got a pack of Tybilliyian warthogs out there trying to find us and kill us."
"That diplomatic mission went a little awry, huh?" Sulu says, ready to pummel Kirk for almost getting Chekov killed. Sulu had nothing to do with the negotiations on Tybilliya; he was just the pilot. Kirk gives him a betrayed look.
"It was an ambush!" he says.
"We should go now," Chekov says, stepping between them. "It is not safe here, I do not think. We should find a source of fresh water to clean our wounds."
"Yeah, fine," Sulu mutters. "Let's just go stomping around an untouched planet that we know nothing about."
"What's the alternative?" Kirk asks. He slaps Chekov's back. "You sure you're okay?" he asks.
Chekov shrugs. "Is strange," he says. "That we are not more gravely injured."
"Maybe we're dead and this is some kind of ghost planet," Sulu says. Kirk and Chekov both give him disbelieving looks.
"What, I can't make a joke about death yet?" Sulu asks. "Too soon?"
Chekov grins, at least.
*
They find a clearing near a lagoon where the water seems fresh, and Chekov uses the replicator to produce some kind of chemical that tells him the water is safe for drinking. Sulu has forgotten so much of his basic chemistry since the Academy, and he's pretty impressed as he bends down beside Chekov to gulp handfuls of water.
"Here," Kirk says, nudging Sulu's shoulder. "I made cups."
"You should be careful how you use that thing," Sulu says. "Captain," he adds, trying not to let his resentment show. Sulu and Kirk have always been friends, but in the professional sense, Sulu has some issues with Kirk's leadership style. Kirk is good at making decisions under pressure, great in a fight, and frighteningly creative, but he's fucking lousy with people who aren't women he's looking to screw, and it's gotten them in trouble more times than Sulu can count.
"What the hell do you mean?" Kirk asks as he dips his mug down into the water.
"He is speaking of the battery life of the replicator, sir," Chekov says. "We should conserve it. However, I do believe that drinking vessels are somewhat essential."
"Somewhat but not absolutely," Sulu says. His head is killing him and he's in a pretty terrible mood. "A canteen would make more sense."
"Fuck, fine," Kirk says. "From now on I'll consult Mr. Sulu before I replicate."
"You should consult Chekov, too," Sulu says. "I'm pretty sure he's smarter than me." He gives Chekov a grin and is way too pleased, considering the dire circumstances, when Chekov smiles back shyly.
"Chekov's smarter than everyone," Kirk says. "C'mon, it's getting dark. We should find a place to sleep."
They walk down into a deep valley as the sun begins to set, then toward the beach, which is covered with very fine, pinkish sand. Kirk chooses the place to build the shelter, and Sulu is too tired to argue, so he doesn't say that they should walk back and build it closer to the caves they passed or at least within pissing distance of the stream that runs parallel to the valley. They work silently and unharrassed by whatever wildlife is around; so far they've only spotted a few flashes of what might be feathers streaking through the trees. By the time darkness has fallen they've put up a serviceable tent and outfitted it with sleeping bags and flashlights.
"Tomorrow we'll work on getting the communicator functioning," Kirk says. "And maybe we'll make a sturdier lean-to. Just in case. " Kirk squeezes Chekov's shoulder, which annoys Sulu, who climbs into the tent.
They fall asleep without eating and without much conversation. Sulu can hear Chekov's stomach growling. Or maybe that's Kirk's. In the middle of the night, Sulu wakes up confused and cold; the temperature has dropped considerably since the sun went down. He can hear the ocean's quiet menace close by, the waves crashing like the ticking of a clock. He looks over at Chekov, who is lying on his back and staring at the ceiling of the tent. When he sees Sulu twitching around Chekov turns to him. His eyes are big and bright in the dull moonlight through the roof of the tent. He looks like he hasn't slept at all. Kirk is snoring heartily.
Chekov reaches over to touch Sulu's sleeve. His hand lingers there as if he doesn't know what to do next, though he doesn't seem nervous but rather eerily calm. Sulu rolls onto his side and takes Chekov's hand, kissing it very softly, across his knuckles and then down to his wrist. Sulu wants to tell him that he's glad to be here, that if Chekov has to be stranded Sulu is grateful to be stranded along with him. Back on the Enterprise, everyone will think that they're dead. Sulu couldn't have borne that, all the uncertainty and fear about Chekov's safety. He's glad, too, that Chekov isn't stuck on the ship, worrying about him. That he doesn't have to live out this ordeal without Chekov.
Sulu doesn't say anything, and Chekov scoots closer, stopping just a few inches short of pressing his face to Sulu's. He pushes his knees against the edge of Sulu's sleeping bag and reaches for Sulu's hand, then kisses it the same way Sulu kissed his. Sulu's cock stirs when he thinks about how he could teach Chekov everything, that Chekov would eagerly and adorably imitate him: the way he kisses, the way he sucks cock. He wants Chekov so badly that he flushes, the inside of his sleeping bag baking with the heat of his body.
"Hikaru," Chekov whispers. "I can't sleep."
"I know," Sulu says. "C'mere."
He pulls Chekov to him, and he can feel Chekov hesitate, thinking of Kirk, but he pushes his face against Sulu's chest anyway, sighing and closing his eyes as Sulu strokes his hair. Sulu expects Chekov to fall asleep like this, but it's Sulu who falls asleep with his fingers tangled in Chekov's curls, and when he wakes up Chekov is on the other side of the tent again.
*
The first day is busy and long and very hot. Chekov works with the communication equipment he managed to salvage from the shuttle, his tongue poking from between his lips and his brow furrowed as he makes delicate adjustments to the chips and wires. Sulu and Kirk construct the beginnings of a shelter, shouting at each other and throwing tools around in frustration. It shouldn't be this hard for two people with degrees in advanced astrophysics to construct a fucking box made of wood, but between rationing supplies from the replicator and Kirk's eschewing of measuring anything there are plenty of roadblocks. It doesn't help that they're both starving.
"We should look for some edible vegetation," Chekov says.
"How the hell will we know if it's edible or not?" Sulu asks, and then he feels bad. His head is still pounding; he feels like he's close to going crazy, and they haven't been here for twenty-four hours.
"I can preform some tests, as I did with the water," Chekov says. Sulu nods apologetically. Kirk groans.
"What about some meat?" Kirk says. "We could kill a boar or something."
"Yeah, I'm sure this place is just lousy with boars," Sulu says with a scoff, though actually it's possible. The planet has proven very Earth-like so far, aside from the uncanny purple-green color of its sky.
"I mean boar equivalents," Kirk says. "Or whatever, maybe something chicken-like. Everybody okay with me pulling a bow and arrow out of this thing?" he asks, gesturing to the replicator.
"Fine by me," Sulu says, because he's actually a pretty good archer and it will be a chance to show off.
They find no animals available to kill, but they do find a tree full of slender fruit with dark red skin, and Chekov determines it to probably be edible.
"I'll try it first," Sulu says. "Then we'll wait an hour, and if I'm not dead, you two can eat."
"I should do it," Kirk says, yanking the fruit out of Sulu's hand. "I'm the Captain. I'm responsible for your lives. And it is kind of my fault. Kind of. That we're here."
"You just want to eat first," Sulu says, smirking as Kirk picks a piece of the fruit's flesh out from the peel. It's firmish and white, and actually looks really appetizing, considering how hungry they all are. Chekov crosses his arms over his chest, looking nervous as Kirk pops the fruit into his mouth. Kirk chews loudly, nodding.
"It's bland," he says. "But not disgusting or anything. It's kinda like a potato banana?"
"Yum," Sulu says with a snort. "Here, give me a piece."
"I thought we were going to wait an hour?"
"Fuck it, I'm hungry."
They eat hungrily and without talking, and Chekov surprises everyone by eating more than Sulu and Kirk. There's a sense of trepidation when they're through, all of them waiting for something terrible to happen, but the worst they get is stomach cramps from eating too fast. They sit by their partially constructed shelter and stare at it, sweating and waiting for their bodies to turn the fruit into energy.
"How's it coming with the communicator?" Kirk asks Chekov.
"Not very good, Keptin. The parts I took are compromised, not working. But I will keep trying."
"'Atta boy. Don't worry. We'll figure something out." Kirk elbows Sulu. "Right?" he says, as if he and Sulu are Chekov's parents and they need to stand united in comforting him with what are probably lies. Sulu grunts noncommittally. He doesn't like it when other people treat Chekov like a child who needs protection. Only Sulu should be allowed to treat him that way, and under the right circumstances. He imagines what it would be like to take Chekov's virginity, how terrified he would be of hurting him, and how sort of honored he would be, too. They would both tremble and it would take hours and Chekov's eyes would fall half-closed and go unfocused --
"Sulu!" Kirk shouts. "Did the potato bananas make you deaf?" He actually sounds a little sincerely worried that they might have.
"Huh? No. What is it?"
"I asked you if you're ready to get back to work."
"Oh, sure." Sulu glances at Chekov guiltily, but Chekov is seemingly deep in thought, frowning as he contemplates a charred data chip.
By the end of the day, the shelter's walls and floor are constructed, the tent they slept in the night before serving as a temporary roof. Chekov has gotten nowhere with the communicator, and he seems frustrated, sitting quietly with his shoulders slumped and his face drawn. Sulu builds a fire and Kirk treks off to gather some more fruit for dinner. When he's gone, Sulu gets up and sits beside Chekov.
"I need parts I cannot get from the replicator," Chekov says. "Without them, I do not know -- I do not know what will happen to us." He looks at Sulu sadly, as if he's failed to save everyone. He's saved Kirk and Sulu before, and Sulu wants to tell him that he doesn't owe either of them anything more, and should in fact hate them both equally for their roles in getting him into this mess, but he only puts his arm around Chekov's shoulders.
"It's okay," Sulu says. "At least we're together. And we could have landed on a much less hospitable planet."
"You talk as if we are here for good," Chekov says glumly.
"I'm not saying that, just that while we're waiting to be rescued, this set up isn't bad, you know?"
Chekov groans a little and presses his face against Sulu's neck, which feels so good, not only the heat of Chekov's cheeks but the gesture itself, sweet and needy and already so natural, as if they didn't waste a year on board the Enterprise pretending that they hadn't been falling in love with each other since they first took her out to space together. Sulu pulls Chekov closer and kisses his temple very softly, then checks over his shoulder to make sure Kirk isn't already on his way back. When he looks back, Chekov is watching his face, his head tilted a bit and his eyelids heavy, lips parted. He clearly wants to be kissed, hard, on the mouth, the way Sulu kissed him before they boarded the shuttle for this nightmare mission. Sulu feels suddenly nervous, because they've only done this once before, and Kirk could catch them, but he's not sure when they'll get the chance to be alone again. Chekov scoots even closer, and he's warm against Sulu's side, damp with sweat.
"You're right," Chekov says. "It is not so bad, if we must be here. We are together." His face turns red as he speaks, somehow making his freckles more obvious. Sulu almost moans with the need to kiss him. Chekov whimpers into Sulu's mouth as Sulu licks his lips apart, and Sulu swallows it up, so hungry for this that he's worried he'll frighten Chekov, but Chekov is breathing harshly into Sulu and clinging so hard to his shirt that Sulu is afraid it will tear. Every time Chekov's tongue brushes across the tip of Sulu's it's like being struck by lightening, and Sulu wants it again and again, until he's nothing but a pile of ashes.
"Pavel," Sulu says softly, pressing his face to Chekov's as they catch their breath. Just being able to say Chekov's name feels like a privilege, and Sulu can't believe how happy he is, despite everything, and how little the reality of their bleak situation seems to matter when he's holding Chekov like this, the pale green of his eyes blanking out the rest of the landscape.
"When we are rescued, when we can be alone, I think I want to sleep in your bed," Chekov says, very quietly and with his cheeks still blazing. This time Sulu does groan, because he can't take it, how much he wants Chekov and how perfectly Chekov keeps offering himself up. Sulu kisses him again, pulling him almost into his lap, and when Chekov yelps and jerks away Sulu knows it's because he's seen Kirk approaching. Sulu stands and pulls his hand through his hair, wondering how much Kirk saw. He's not sure why he's worried, except that now isn't really the best time to be preoccupied with romance. Though maybe Kirk couldn't really complain about that; he's been known to mix business and pleasure in the past. Of course, being stranded without communicators isn't exactly business as usual.
"Here we go," Kirk says, dumping an armload full of fruit on the ground near the fire. "You think the replicator could make spices?"
There's an awkward silence, and Sulu looks everywhere but at Chekov. He meets Kirk's eyes and sees understanding and forgiveness there, which he should have expected. Kirk smiles a little and shrugs.
"Spices," Chekov says dreamily, and Sulu can't help laughing out loud.
*
That night, there's a bad storm and they lose the roof of their makeshift hut. They stumble through the rain, looking for the caves they passed on the way out of the jungle, almost completely blinded by the driving rain and grasping at each other for traction. Chekov somehow loses a shoe, then slips and cuts his foot. Sulu is carrying him by the time they find the caves, his arms shaking with exhaustion.
"Bring him here," Kirk says when they're out of the rain. Kirk sets his flashlight down and unrolls the sleeping bag that he wrapped the replicator in. The replicator has gotten a little wet, and they all let out their breath in relief when it successfully produces bandages and towels. Chekov is shaking against Sulu's chest as Kirk bandages his foot, his lips bluish in the low light. As soon as Sulu opens his mouth to ask Kirk to get blankets for Chekov from the replicator he realizes he's already doing it.
"I am alright," Chekov says, grumbling and irritated by Sulu and Kirk's need to distract themselves from the hopeless muck of this situation by taking care of him as if he's an invalid or an infant or both. He wraps himself up in the blankets and hunches back against the wall of the cave, sighing heavily.
"We'll build a better roof tomorrow," Kirk says, and Sulu can't decide if he hates Kirk for being so goddamn obvious or loves him for remaining hopeful. For Sulu, it's always a little of both where Kirk is involved.
"Can you get some kind of heater from that thing?" Sulu asks, nodding to the replicator.
"A heater is too complex, these portable models cannot produce machines," Chekov says. Sulu already kind of knew that, but at least he's making conversation, so they don't have to sit around only dripping and shivering until the rain stops.
"I can make a fire," Kirk says. "Unless -- shit. This thing won't give me dry wood, will it?"
Chekov shakes his head. "It cannot produce organic materials," he says before tucking his head down against his knees, which he's drawn up to his chest. He's still shaking, and Sulu puts an arm around him.
"Let's at least get some dry clothes," he says.
They undress, Sulu feeling awkward and Kirk seemingly without a second thought, Chekov hiding under the blanket as he peels off his wet clothes. There is some scrambling toweling off and then they put on fresh clothes from the replicator; none of them fit quite right but it's better than freezing to death. The air inside the cave is frigid, and the temperature outside feels as if it dropped to below zero along when the rain shower began. Sulu can hear Chekov's teeth chattering in the darkness, and he gets more blankets from the replicator.
"We're going to wear this thing out faster than we thought we would," Sulu mutters as he wraps a third blanket around Chekov. The blankets the replicator produces aren't exactly heavy-duty or very warm; they're made from slippery synthetic material.
"If that's what it takes to survive, that's what we'll have to do," Kirk says. "Maybe we should make a list, tomorrow morning, of things to stockpile before the battery goes. You know, we could prioritize it and everything--"
"Captain, I think he's in shock," Sulu says, holding Chekov's shoulders and trying to get him to look up. "Pavel!" he says, shaking him. Chekov seems to be struggling to say something, but then his head just drops forward listlessly as he begins shaking harder. "Pavel -- fuck, he's freezing, he's --"
"Thermal sleeping bag," Kirk says to the replicator, cursing when what comes out looks as if it's hardly emergency-medicine grade. He unzips it and Sulu helps Chekov into it, his heart hammering and his mind unable to latch onto any remotely coherent thoughts, everything snagging on cold, primal fear. Just a few hours ago he was kissing Chekov. Just a few hours ago Chekov was so fucking warm.
"You need to strip," Kirk says when Chekov won't stop shaking and can't seem to open his eyes, his skin like ice when Sulu reaches into the pile of blankets he's wrapped in to check his pulse, which is sluggish. Sulu nods without thinking; this is one of those moments, and he's had them before, when he'll do anything Kirk asks of him without question. Sulu is not easily prone to panic, but in certain situations, like falling to his death at a thousand miles a minute or watching Chekov's freckled cheeks turn blue, he wouldn't want anybody but Kirk around to help him keep his shit together.
While Sulu pulls his freshly replicated clothes off, Kirk yanks the blankets away from Chekov and begins to undress him, too. Sulu knows what he has in mind, body heat, and it could work, but Chekov looks so small and white under Kirk's hands, and Sulu is terrified that he's not going to be able to save him.
"C'mon, hurry," Kirk says, leaving only Chekov's briefs in place, and Sulu should have thought to leave his own underwear on, but it's too late now and there's no time for modesty. He scrambles into the sleeping bag beside Chekov and pulls him into his arms as Kirk wraps the blankets around both of them and then zips the sleeping bag up to their ears. Chekov is like a block of ice in Sulu's arms, his eyes half-open and unfocused and his shoulders jerking as he shudders. Sulu pulls him as close to his chest as he can, his heart thundering and his own arms shaking with fear. Kirk gets a towel and rubs it through Chekov's hair, trying to get it as dry as possible.
"I don't know if it's working," Sulu says, his voice an embarrassing little tremble. "I'm pretty cold myself, and, and --"
"Here," Kirk says, and he brings the towel over to dry Sulu's hair as well. "Just give me a second. It'll be okay. Just hold on to him, and -- give me a second."
Sulu nods, tucking his head down against Chekov's icy forehead as hot tears begin to creep into the corners of his eyes. He feels like his hands and arms aren't big enough, like he can't cover enough of Chekov's skin with his. He's so paralyzed with the fear of losing Chekov that at first he hardly notices that Kirk's naked cock is swinging near his nose as he climbs down into the huddle of blankets with them.
"This'll help," Kirk says, and Sulu just nods again, because in the moment it does seem like a brilliant idea. Lightening flashes outside, illuminating the cave for a split second, then thunder that sounds like it could start an avalanche booms in accompaniment, echoing all around them. The sleeping bag can barely contain the three of them, especially with all the blankets, but Sulu can already feel a change in temperature as Kirk wraps himself around Chekov's back, one of his hands coming to rest on Sulu's neck, which seems to raise his own body temperature instantly.
"You're alright, Pavel," Kirk says, squeezing them all together even closer, his grip on Sulu's neck tightening. Something about his use of Chekov's first name breaks through Sulu's pure panic, and he begins to consider the strangeness of the situation. Still, if it helps Chekov recover, he'll dance the tango with Kirk, naked except for a tiara. He shuts his eyes and reaches around to pull Kirk more tightly against Chekov, as if that's even possible at this point. Kirk feels warmer than both of them, and seems so calm and sure, but when Sulu presses a thumb against Kirk's neck he can feel his pulse hammering.
Chekov sniffles against the hollow of Sulu's throat, and Sulu meets Kirk's eyes over Chekov's head, taking this as a good sign. Kirk grins a little, and Sulu gets a weird, sort of queasy feeling in his stomach. He looks down at Chekov, who is still shivering, though less violently now.
"Pavel?" he says softly, and Chekov sniffles again.
"He's okay," Kirk says, taking his hand from Sulu's neck to place it over the crown of Chekov's head. "Just let him rest. He's gonna be fine."
Sulu's vague queasy feeling shoots instantly into extreme annoyance. Don't tell me what to do with him, he thinks furiously. He feels like he's been tricked. Kirk, with his ridiculously huge cock, is lying naked against Sulu's maybe boyfriend's back, bringing him back to life when Sulu couldn't. Sulu knows he's an asshole for even thinking this and scoffs at himself, pressing a warm kiss against Chekov's forehead, partially to reassert his ownership. He can feel Kirk trying to meet his eyes but won't cooperate. He sighs hugely, moving all three of their bodies with it, and shuts his eyes, his hand curling into a fist on Kirk's back.
*
Sulu sleeps more deeply than he expected to, sweating against Chekov's chest as they all begin to grow warm inside the cocoon of blankets. Chekov makes soft noises of recovery in his sleep, and Kirk doesn't snore, so he must be awake. Sulu keeps his eyes closed until he can feel Chekov stirring in his arms like a chick trying to hatch. He opens his eyes and loosens his grip on Chekov, who rolls onto his back with a sigh. Kirk is already awake, propped up on an elbow as he looks down at Chekov, still so close. Too close. Sulu wants him gone, but Chekov doesn't seem as if he's in a hurry to get rid of Kirk or remove himself from the heat trapped between their bodies. He turns from Sulu to give Kirk a delirious little smile.
"I'm sorry," he says softly.
"Don't be sorry," Kirk and Sulu say at the same time, and Sulu finally meets Kirk's eyes then, which is like a punch in the stomach. Their faces are maybe four inches apart as they both lean up over Chekov. Sulu looks away from Kirk quickly, blushing. For some reason he feels like he's the only here who's naked.
"Should we - what should we do?" Sulu asks. Embarrassed by the question, he tells himself he shouldn't be; Kirk is still the Captain, the one who makes command decisions. Sulu slides his arm across Chekov's chest and closes his hand around Chekov's shoulder. Chekov moans a little and presses his face to Sulu's chest, shutting his eyes. A shudder of excitement moves through Sulu at the proximity of Chekov's heat-swollen rosebud lips to Sulu's rock hard nipple. He hates Kirk for seeing them together like this, when everything is still a first. This is the first time they've woken up pressed together, and the first time Sulu's semi-erect cock has been pressed to Chekov's bare thigh.
"He'll need protein," Kirk says.
"Great, so we should kill a boar?"
Chekov laughs, the puff of his hot breath against Sulu's nipple bringing his cock from semi- to almost fully erect. Chekov rolls against Sulu as if to hide Sulu's erection from Kirk, or maybe to press against it. Sulu swallows heavily, trying to will his arousal away, because he doesn't want the musky smell of Kirk's sleep-damp skin to have any part in it. He holds Chekov against him and sighs with relief as Kirk climbs out of the sleeping bag.
"I'll find some food and bring it here," Kirk says. He gets the canteen that he set outside the mouth of the cave - when did that happen? - and brings it to Chekov, who sits up in Sulu's arms and drinks the rainwater eagerly. Some water escapes from his mouth and rolls down his jaw, dripping onto his pale neck, and, oh, God, Sulu is hard.
"Thank you, Keptin," Chekov says, breathless from gulping the water as he hands the canteen back. He huddles in Sulu's arms and shivers a little. Every slight shift of his body makes Sulu's cock throb, and he doesn't like the feeling that it's got something to do with having an audience. He kisses Chekov's forehead and listens to the sound of Kirk dressing, buckling his belt and zipping his fly.
"Sure is a lot warmer with that sun out," Kirk says. He's probably embarrassed, too, acting awkwardly, which Sulu didn't think was possible. "I'll be back in a jiffy with something for you to eat, Pavel," he says.
"Hikaru," Chekov whispers as Kirk walks off with his pack slung over his shoulder. Chekov tips his face up to Sulu's and bats his lashes as if he's about to say something very serious. "What does this mean, 'jiffy?'"
"It's an old slang word for 'fast,'" Sulu says. He laughs a little and kisses Chekov's nose.
"Oh! I thought it was vehicle of some kind."
Sulu smiles against Chekov's forehead and pulls him closer, relaxing into the feeling of holding him now that Kirk is gone. He arranges the blankets around Chekov's exposed shoulder, though Kirk is right, it's much warmer now.
"You really scared the shit out of me," Sulu says, not sure if he should make a joke about his erection or just pretend that it's not there.
"I'm sorry." Chekov kisses Sulu's neck timidly. "Hikaru." His hand skims down over Sulu's bare side. "Do you really think the Keptin will be back -- jiffy?"
"In a jiffy. And I doubt it, he's got no idea what he's even looking for. Why?"
Chekov shrugs and looks up at Sulu, giving him a bashful smile. Sulu kisses him, reminding himself to be gentle, that Chekov is still weak. Chekov shifts and Sulu laughs into his mouth when he realizes that Chekov is hard, too.
"You should save your strength," Sulu whispers.
"You make me feel strong," Chekov says. He humps against Sulu's thigh, and Sulu chews the tip of his tongue to keep from bursting into nervous, hysterical laughter. Chekov is so, so young, nervous and clumsy and eager, and Sulu is kissing him probably harder than he should.
"Do you think we will escape this place?" Chekov asks, his lips still pressed to Sulu's. He sounds excited by the idea that they might not, and terrified, too, his breath coming fast.
"Yes," Sulu says.
"Why?"
"I don't know. Because you and Kirk are here. You're the smartest guy I know, and he's the luckiest."
"Luckiest, Hikaru?" Chekov smirks. "You think there is no skill and intelligence involved in the Keptin's luck?"
"Fine, he's really impressive." This goes a long way toward killing Sulu's hardon, but Chekov laughs impishly and wraps his hand around it, and Sulu groans, thrusting into Chekov's grip.
"I was not scared last night," Chekov says, watching Sulu's blissed-out face with open wonder as he strokes him. "Because you were here. I knew you would take care of me."
"And that Kirk would." Sulu doesn't really want to pursue this line of thinking while Chekov's hand is on his dick, but he can't help it.
"Yes," Chekov says. He sits up on his elbow and puts his mouth on Sulu's ear, licking at the lobe with his hot little tongue, melting Sulu to nothing. "I knew you two would take care of me, because you both owed me one, da?"
Sulu laughs and nods, bucking up into Chekov's hand and reaching around to touch his ass, which feels vaguely illegal, but Chekov moans happily when Sulu rubs him there. Sulu feels very young and dumbly eager himself, not sure what to do first as Chekov licks his way down his neck and into the hollow of his throat.
"I seriously didn't plan on molesting you the morning after you almost died," Sulu says, panting, getting close as Chekov's grip on him tightens.
"I -- ah -- did not plan, either, but you were so hard against me, Hikaru, bozhe moi, felt good."
Sulu growls and pins Chekov, forgetting his fragility and grinding down against him, making him gasp and hump upward desperately. Chekov is nodding wildly, as if Sulu needs encouragement, his lust-blown eyes locked on Sulu's.
"This is what you do when you are happy to be alive," Chekov says, grabbing Sulu's arms and bracing himself on them as he ruts up against him, their cocks rubbing together crazily until Chekov moans and arches, his head flung back as his hot come paints Sulu's stomach. Sulu reaches down and grabs his own cock, staring at Chekov's twitching, pink, fucking gorgeous dick as the last of his come dribbles from the tip. Sulu comes with his teeth gritted, feeling like he'll die from it as he watches his seed splash across Chekov's flushed skin. He sinks down, gluing himself against Chekov and kissing him, both of them breathless, Chekov's hands still tight around Sulu's biceps.
"God," Sulu whispers, rubbing his nose against Chekov's. They're both breathing hard, chests heaving together. "I wish I had a picture of you just like you are right now."
Chekov grins. "Covered in your come?" he says. "Malnourished, half-dead?"
"Helpless," Sulu says, whispering it down into Chekov's mouth. "Mine."
Chekov pushes out a little whimper, and Sulu swallows it down. They're still kissing, lazy and hot, when Sulu hears someone clear his throat. Kirk. Right. Sulu had actually managed to forget all about him for a moment.
"Shit," Sulu whispers, wincing. Chekov's eyes are huge, his heart pounding against Sulu's chest.
"Uh," Kirk says. "You want me to --?"
"I didn't -- that was fast," Sulu says.
"Yeah," Kirk agrees with a snort, and Sulu burns with anger, wondering how much he saw, or overheard.
"I got some of those potato bananas, and some snails,” Kirk says. “I tested one of the snails, so. Not poisonous."
Chekov is staring up at Sulu, his cheeks burning, eyes wide. Sulu shakes his head as if to tell him not to worry about it.
"Well -- we'll get dressed and meet you outside the cave, alright?" Sulu says, his words a little sharp, because Kirk might have offered this plan himself instead of just standing there like an idiot.
"Alright," Kirk says, and he's quickly gone. Sulu lets out his breath and Chekov drapes an arm over his eyes dramatically.
"Hikaru," he whispers. "I feel terrible."
"Don't -- why? I'm the one taking advantage of a teenager. I'm sure that's how he sees it, anyway." Sulu gropes around near the sleeping bag and finds Chekov's clothes, passing them to him.
"Yes, but -- we -- sent him to get food for us while we did this thing together. Is a little rude, I think."
"I guess." Sulu uses one of the blankets to clean Chekov's chest and then his own. "But I wouldn't worry about Kirk getting offended if you and I -- take advantage of our time alone together. Hell, he's more likely to ask for a threesome than get all sensitive about being left out."
"Hikaru!" Chekov says, wrinkling his nose.
"Too soon?" Hikaru says with a smirk, and Chekov smacks his arm, grinning.
They go outside, the air having the humid, murky quality of the day after a very significant event, in this case the storm that almost killed Chekov. Among other things. Kirk is leaning against the rocky cliff wall outside the mouth of the cave, staring off into the distance, the sack of food hanging on his shoulder. He's chewing on a snail, and he throws its shell into the rocks as Sulu and Chekov make their way over.
"Thank you, Keptin," Chekov says before Kirk has even offered him any food. Chekov is blushing brilliantly and Sulu probably is, too; his whole body feels itchy and overheated. He wishes he could pull Chekov into a hot shower and wash him and do it all over again, a marathon of sex and naps, hot water and soap. He accepts a potato banana from Kirk and shakes his head at the snails, which are sliming around blindly at the bottom of Kirk's sack.
"They're not bad," Kirk says. Sulu watches Chekov eat one, and he can see that he's trying not to show his disgust for the texture.
"Protein," Kirk says. He does seem a little moody, but probably just because he didn't sleep.
They walk back down through the valley to inspect the remains of their camp. The hut is still mostly intact, though the walls will need to be patched in places and the roof will need to be completely rebuilt. Sulu and Kirk go to work immediately, refusing to let Chekov help. He sits wrapped in the blanket that Sulu used to wipe up their come and stares out at the ocean, which is still a little wild from the storm.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Kirk asks when he and Sulu head into the forest to get more wood. Sulu turns and frowns, thinking he's misheard him.
"Huh?"
"That -- whatever you were doing -- in the cave? Are you crazy?"
Kirk isn't looking at Sulu. He's holding an ax and pushing against the trunk of a thin tree as if he's checking to make sure it's sturdy enough to qualify.
"Maybe you should get some sleep," Sulu says sharply. Kirk turns to glare at him.
"Is that an order?"
"Jesus." Sulu's face is burning. He's aware that he's acting like an idiot, and Kirk has every right to call him on it. He shakes his head and stares up at the swaying treetops.
"I just don't know what you were thinking, Hikaru," Kirk says. He takes a swing at the tree, wood splintering from it. "This is not the fucking time."
"I know. I'm sorry. There was nakedness involved, okay?"
"Yeah, no kidding. Some of us were able to control ourselves."
"Well -- you're not -- you don't see him -- that way. Do you?"
"Fuck no." Kirk turns to glare at him again. Sulu isn't sure why he feels like he's winning this fight -- because he's the one who came all over Chekov's chest this morning?
"He's practically a child," Kirk says, muttering. He turns back to the tree and hammers at it with the ax. Sulu just stands there holding the lathe he'll use to make boards from the trunk, wondering if he should go back to the replicator and get another ax. Kirk is wailing on the tree like it has personally offended him.
"He was the one egging me on," Sulu says, maybe bragging a little. "But -- I know -- you're right about the timing being bad. I'm sorry, okay? Jesus, take a breath."
Kirk stops and pants, stumbling backward a little, the ax still lodged in the tree trunk. Sulu catches Kirk's shoulders and steadies him. Kirk's skin is burning like radiation under his shirt. His sweat smells a little bit like the snails.
"You need to get some sleep," Sulu says, giving his back a pat. Kirk bends over and puts his hands on his knees, panting down at the ground.
"Fuck," he says, huffing the word out. "It's my fault we're stuck here. This whole thing's my fault."
"It's not -- if I'd have flown smarter --"
A cracking sound silences Sulu, and he grabs Kirk's arm, pulling him away from the tree, which topples toward the earth with the ear-splitting sound of shredding wood. Kirk pushes Sulu down to a crouching position and huddles around him, needing to protect somebody from something, as ever. Apparently saving Chekov's life last night wasn't enough. Sulu looks up once the dust has settled, branches still rattling irritably, the tree lying diagonally across the ground behind them.
Sulu doesn't want to continue the argument about Chekov, so he just sits on the ground with his hands slumped between his legs and stares at the tree. Kirk does the same. Sulu feels like now might be the time for hysterical laughter, the kind that bubbles out after a near-death experience, but nothing comes. They sit there for awhile like they're waiting for the tree to get up and walk away.
"No, but you shouldn't feel bad," Kirk says after the insects have begun to sing again. "About wanting him. I just thought, before, that you were actually fucking. But you weren't, right?"
"Of course not." Sulu's face burns as he tries to imagine the view Kirk had: Sulu on top of Chekov inside the sleeping bag, the muscles on Sulu's back moving as he ground his hips down, Chekov panting and squeezing his arms.
"Good. But I should have known you'd end up together. You're both so --" Kirk holds up his hand and makes a gesture like a bird flying away, or something blowing off carelessly into the wind.
"So what?"
"I don't know. I had this aunt who thought she could see people's auras. I think I know what she meant. It's not a literal thing -- you can only see the light someone gives off, or doesn't, after you've gotten to know them. Like Bones, his is all bluish and smoky like a dive bar. Uhura's is kind of fiery, and, like, clean? And you and Pavel, you have this superhuman brilliant white light that hurts to look at. But it's just as vulnerable as it is powerful? Or something? Like something you want to protect."
Sulu stares until Kirk looks back, and then they both laugh hard, Sulu's cheeks aching with it.
"Those snails clearly have hallucinogenic properties," Sulu says. He stands and offers Kirk a hand. "Let's go back and make sure Pavel isn't trying to walk on water or something."
Kirk grins and stares at the ground as they walk. Sulu didn't realize that Kirk was the saddest person he'd ever met until they'd been in space together for six months and he noticed the way Kirk looks at Bones and Uhura and even Spock, like he's dying to be loved best of all by every one of them, even when he's being hard on them, maybe especially then. Sulu never thought Kirk's neediness extended to Chekov, and certainly not to Sulu. Kirk has always seemed to class the two of them differently, as if they're slightly irritating younger brothers who he needs to keep in line.
They get back to the camp and find Chekov curled up inside the blanket and sleeping peacefully, his back to an embankment of rocks that protects him from the wind off the ocean. Sulu kisses his cheek and nudges him until he wakes up a little.
"You okay?" he whispers. Chekov blinks up at him and smiles.
"Did I fall asleep?" he asks.
"It's okay. But come with us, alright? It's not safe for you to sleep out here by yourself."
Chekov moans a little and stands. Sulu thinks he knows what Kirk is talking about, actually: Bones with his bluish smoke, Uhura with her sharp fire, and Pavel almost too bright and pure to look at directly. Sulu just doesn't understand how Kirk can see him that way, too. Sulu is nothing like Chekov. He's not open or innocent, and is rarely full of wonder the way that Chekov is, observing before judging.
They get another ax from the replicator and return to the felled tree. Chopping it into chunks and hauling them back to the camp takes the remainder of the day, and they have to stop twice to eat potato bananas for energy. By the time the sun starts to set Sulu is exhausted, and he stretches out on his back on a mossy hill that overlooks the camp, catching his breath and staring up at the sky as its colors change with the coming night. Chekov is even more exhausted than he is, and almost as soon as he lies down beside Sulu, resting his head on Sulu's chest, he's asleep again.
Sulu turns to look down at the camp, where Kirk is starting a fire. He's sluggish in his movements, and Sulu hopes there will be no fresh disasters tonight so that Kirk can get some rest.
"Ain't that a pretty picture?" Kirk says, looking up at Sulu and Chekov. Sulu smirks and looks away, embarrassed. The wind is getting colder. He curls his arm more tightly around Chekov's shoulder, and Chekov whines a little under his breath with the disturbance, as if he's afraid Sulu will make him get up.
"This is what I used to do when I was a kid," Sulu says when Kirk walks up onto the hill to sit beside them.
"What? Stare at the sky?"
"Yeah. For hours. Daydreaming. My mom thought I was going to be a philosopher or something, like I was having deep thoughts. I was just thinking about being up there."
"I'm sure you've never had a deep thought," Kirk says. He grins and leans back on his elbows. His shirt is soaked down the front with sweat, and Sulu's is, too. Chekov is damp; they all smell horrible.
"I guess we should, like, bathe at some point," Sulu says.
"Suggestion noted. We need to finish that roof tomorrow."
"Yep."
Kirk leans back all the way, moaning as if it hurts to do so, and it probably does. Sulu's back is killing him. He can't remember the last time he had reason to do this much manual labor.
"We could have landed on worse planets," Kirk says. "Or nowhere."
"Is that some kind of thank you?"
"I guess so. To both of you. Though, really, we all just got lucky. Surviving that crash alone."
Sulu is deflated by the reminder of the crash just as easily as Kirk's previous comment puffed him up. This is how Kirk has always been with Sulu: supporting him, then putting him in his place.
"Do we get to name this planet, then?" Sulu says. He's scratching slow fingers through Chekov's curls, and he makes himself stop, because it seems like something he shouldn't do in front of Kirk, though it was kind of nice, showing someone else how well he can care for Chekov now that he's allowed to, letting it out in the open at last.
"Yeah," Kirk says. "I say we do. What should we call it?"
"I don't know. Maybe we could combine our names somehow."
"First names or last names?"
"Last names, right? Like." Sulu pauses to think. "Sucheki."
"Oh, you get to be first, huh? Sucheki? That sounds like some kind of lame card game. How about -- Kirkulukov?"
"Yeah, that's much more dignified."
They laugh, waking Chekov, who sits up and rubs at his face like a little boy. He looks over at Kirk and then back at Sulu as if to ask them what's going on.
"How about Chekuluirk?" Sulu says, tucking a curl behind Chekov's ear.
"What?" Chekov asks blearily.
"I like that, actually," Kirk says. "But it should be 'Check-ooh-lehrk.' That sounds more, I don't know. Professional."
"Professional?"
"Cultured."
"What are you talking about?" Chekov asks, sounding a little distressed, and Sulu can't help laughing hard along with Kirk. He pulls Chekov back down to him and kisses his ear in apology.
"May the gods of Chekuluirk send us something other than potato bananas and ass snails for dinner," Sulu says.
"Ass snails?" Kirk says, still laughing hard, Chekov giggling a little now, too.
"That's what they taste like."
They boil their dirty clothes and replicate new ones. There's a discussion about how many sets of clothing each of them should have, but no conclusion is reached. They fry potato bananas for dinner, and they taste much better this way, sweeter.
The sky is clear, and they sleep in their roofless hut, very deeply, Sulu curled around Chekov and Kirk on his back on the other side of the hut, snoring like a champion.
*
Part II
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairings: Kirk/Sulu/Chekov and all permutations thereof
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~50,000
Summary: After an away mission goes awry, Kirk, Sulu, and Chekov are marooned on a strange, seemingly uninhabited planet.
Sulu has had nightmares about crashing since he was nine years old. First it was his bike, then the prop plane he learned to fly during high school, and lately it's the Enterprise, driving headlong into some furious sun. The nightmares are the only time he's ever afraid of failing on that level, and in the seconds after he wakes from them he feels ashamed of himself for his subconscious doubt. He knows, when he's awake, that he'll never crash.
And then one day he does, after a surprise attack is launched against him as he leaves Tybilliya. He's way off course and the radio is dead, not only jammed but fried by whatever weapon the Tybilliyian guerrilla forces used before he managed to escape their fire, his back thrusters blown off. Kirk is sitting next to him, screaming into his communicator as if someone will hear him way out here in the dead outer quadrants of space. Sulu knew they shouldn't have taken this mission. Kirk volunteered, and he brought Chekov, too, because Chekov is a genius and the Tybillyians lured them to their planet with a distress call about dark matter unearthed by miners. Now they've barely escaped with their lives, and they're going to die in space if Sulu doesn't break the atmosphere of a remote planet even Chekov can't identify and crash land onto whatever they find there. Chekov's ears are bleeding when he leans between Sulu and Kirk to look at the sparking monitors, which are showing nothing but warning messages and confused nonsense.
"Your ears," Sulu manages to say, and Chekov looks at him. Two hours before they boarded the shuttle to Tybilliya, they got into a fight. Sulu didn't want Chekov along on this mission. It's too dangerous. Chekov is too young. Chekov resented this, of course. Sulu caught Chekov's arm before he could storm away, and he kissed him, because it was the only way he knew how to explain the real reason he didn't want him in any danger. Chekov stared at Sulu with open wonder, his cheeks going pink, then he kissed Sulu back, sighing into his mouth with what sounded like relief, and Sulu had never in his life known happiness like that. Now they're going to die, and Chekov is looking at Sulu like he forgives him, but Sulu doesn't deserve to be forgiven. He should have been more calm and decisive during the attack. He shouldn't have tried to conserve energy by putting the back shields at eight percent. He should tell Chekov, now, before they crash, that he loves him more than flying and space and every star in every galaxy that they'll never see together.
"Hold on to something!" Kirk screams when they break through the atmosphere. Sulu wants to scoff, because, how helpful, but he can't make any sound at all, can only stare through the shuttle's front window at the planet that is rushing up to meet them as he yanks impotently at the controls. He can hear Chekov breathing even around the scream of the shuttle as it cuts across the purplish sky of the terraform planet below. He sees jungle and snow-capped mountains and rivers and an ocean. Yanking on the controls, he tries to steer the shuttle toward land.
"Sulu, isn't there an emergency chute?" Kirk screams.
"Only individual chutes!" Sulu shouts. Chekov is touching Sulu's shoulder now. Sulu doesn't want to die before he gets another chance to kiss him. "The shuttle's chute was melted in the blast that hit the back end!"
"Then the individuals, yeah?" Kirk says, getting up from his seat.
"There's no time!" Sulu shouts back. "We won't even get a chance to evacuate before --"
And then the treetops are right there, and Chekov is squeezing Sulu's shoulders, and Sulu is wishing he had time to turn around and look at him once more before they both die.
*
He wakes up to wet leaves and the sound of someone coughing. The shuttle is in pieces around him, and Kirk is to his left, up on his hands and knees, his head tucked to his chest. His clothes are ripped and bloody, but he seems okay. Sulu looks down at himself. There's a piece of jagged metal sticking out of his left ankle and making his whole leg throb with pain, but it's not very big, and when he pulls it out it comes away clean. Blood leaks from the cut like he's turned on a spigot, and he has to look away. Chekov is nowhere to be seen.
"No," he says, looking at the ruined shuttle craft. There's blood splattered on the front window. He doesn't understand how he and Kirk have survived, but if they have, Chekov must have, too. There are distant, unfriendly animal sounds coming from the jungle landscape around them as Sulu crawls toward the shuttle, his leg aching terribly. The planet's sun is still out, but the jungle is so thick that it feels like early evening within it, except for the patch of light that is streaming down through the hole that the shuttle tore in tree canopy.
"That was some landing, Sulu," Kirk says, laughing a little. He's on his knees now, looking around. "Where's little Chekov?" he asks, suddenly panicked, and the little is so devastatingly appropriate in this situation that Sulu stops in his tracks, afraid to look inside the shuttle.
"Chekov!" Kirk shouts, bounding forward to rip the ruined door away. Sulu can't read his expression when he looks inside; Kirk is always stony-faced when there's a job to do, whether it's saving someone's life or burying them properly. He hurries forward to help Kirk lift Chekov out of the shuttle, and when Chekov makes a little sound, a tiny, irritated moan of pain, Sulu struggles not to fall apart with relief. Chekov looks up at him blearily, sucking on his bleeding lip, and Sulu wants to believe in every all-powerful force every alien culture has ever worshiped, because it must be true, all of it, everything good that anyone ever hoped for. He all but wrenches Chekov from Kirk's arms and cradles him against his chest, bringing him away from the wrecked shuttle.
"Are you okay?" Sulu asks, kneeling down to look into Chekov's face. He's got a bruised cheek and that cut on his lip, and he's shaking terribly, but he seems relatively unharmed.
"I am okay, Hikaru," Chekov says, smiling weakly. Sulu wants to kiss his face a thousand times, but he can't bring himself to do it with Kirk watching, so he only squeezes him, trying to seem as if he's checking for further injuries.
"I can't believe we survived that!" Kirk says. Sulu is still staring at Chekov, who is smiling up at Sulu as if he's proud of him, and Sulu doesn't deserve that, either, but he'll take it.
"Where are we?" Sulu asks. He lets Chekov sit up, aware of the fact that he's been coddling him as if he's an infant.
"It is an uncharted planet, I believe," Chekov says as Sulu helps him to stand. Sulu can barely manage it himself, with his leg still leaking blood. Chekov notices this and bends down to examine the cut, then takes his shirt off to tie it around Sulu's ankle. Sulu has never seen Chekov in his undershirt before, and his arms are definitely not as delicate-looking as Sulu expected. Sulu is light-headed, thinking crazily of Chekov's arms at a time like this, and he stumbles back against the trunk of a tree. Chekov and Kirk both rush forward to steady him.
"Is he alright?" Kirk asks, slinging one of Sulu's arms around his shoulders.
"He has lost some blood, but this will stop the bleeding," Chekov says, bending down again to tighten the makeshift bandage around Sulu's ankle. "We should find a safe place to rest."
"Let's salvage what we can from this," Kirk says, approaching the shuttle. He comes away with the useless communicator and an emergency kit which is essentially just a portable replicator. It can't make food, but at least they can get simple medical supplies and maybe blankets from it. Chekov begins fooling with the busted control panel, pulling away components and shoving them into a canvas bag he got from the replicator.
"How long is that thing's battery life?" Sulu asks, nodding to the replicator.
"Should last for a few months if it was fully charged before take off," Kirk says. "Chekov -- what are you doing?" he asks as the control panel sparks and spits at Chekov, who yanks his hands away, cursing.
"These are parts we cannot replicate, Keptin," Chekov says. "Complex things we could use with your communicator to maybe contact someone."
"Well, just make sure it's not the wrong someone. We've still got a pack of Tybilliyian warthogs out there trying to find us and kill us."
"That diplomatic mission went a little awry, huh?" Sulu says, ready to pummel Kirk for almost getting Chekov killed. Sulu had nothing to do with the negotiations on Tybilliya; he was just the pilot. Kirk gives him a betrayed look.
"It was an ambush!" he says.
"We should go now," Chekov says, stepping between them. "It is not safe here, I do not think. We should find a source of fresh water to clean our wounds."
"Yeah, fine," Sulu mutters. "Let's just go stomping around an untouched planet that we know nothing about."
"What's the alternative?" Kirk asks. He slaps Chekov's back. "You sure you're okay?" he asks.
Chekov shrugs. "Is strange," he says. "That we are not more gravely injured."
"Maybe we're dead and this is some kind of ghost planet," Sulu says. Kirk and Chekov both give him disbelieving looks.
"What, I can't make a joke about death yet?" Sulu asks. "Too soon?"
Chekov grins, at least.
*
They find a clearing near a lagoon where the water seems fresh, and Chekov uses the replicator to produce some kind of chemical that tells him the water is safe for drinking. Sulu has forgotten so much of his basic chemistry since the Academy, and he's pretty impressed as he bends down beside Chekov to gulp handfuls of water.
"Here," Kirk says, nudging Sulu's shoulder. "I made cups."
"You should be careful how you use that thing," Sulu says. "Captain," he adds, trying not to let his resentment show. Sulu and Kirk have always been friends, but in the professional sense, Sulu has some issues with Kirk's leadership style. Kirk is good at making decisions under pressure, great in a fight, and frighteningly creative, but he's fucking lousy with people who aren't women he's looking to screw, and it's gotten them in trouble more times than Sulu can count.
"What the hell do you mean?" Kirk asks as he dips his mug down into the water.
"He is speaking of the battery life of the replicator, sir," Chekov says. "We should conserve it. However, I do believe that drinking vessels are somewhat essential."
"Somewhat but not absolutely," Sulu says. His head is killing him and he's in a pretty terrible mood. "A canteen would make more sense."
"Fuck, fine," Kirk says. "From now on I'll consult Mr. Sulu before I replicate."
"You should consult Chekov, too," Sulu says. "I'm pretty sure he's smarter than me." He gives Chekov a grin and is way too pleased, considering the dire circumstances, when Chekov smiles back shyly.
"Chekov's smarter than everyone," Kirk says. "C'mon, it's getting dark. We should find a place to sleep."
They walk down into a deep valley as the sun begins to set, then toward the beach, which is covered with very fine, pinkish sand. Kirk chooses the place to build the shelter, and Sulu is too tired to argue, so he doesn't say that they should walk back and build it closer to the caves they passed or at least within pissing distance of the stream that runs parallel to the valley. They work silently and unharrassed by whatever wildlife is around; so far they've only spotted a few flashes of what might be feathers streaking through the trees. By the time darkness has fallen they've put up a serviceable tent and outfitted it with sleeping bags and flashlights.
"Tomorrow we'll work on getting the communicator functioning," Kirk says. "And maybe we'll make a sturdier lean-to. Just in case. " Kirk squeezes Chekov's shoulder, which annoys Sulu, who climbs into the tent.
They fall asleep without eating and without much conversation. Sulu can hear Chekov's stomach growling. Or maybe that's Kirk's. In the middle of the night, Sulu wakes up confused and cold; the temperature has dropped considerably since the sun went down. He can hear the ocean's quiet menace close by, the waves crashing like the ticking of a clock. He looks over at Chekov, who is lying on his back and staring at the ceiling of the tent. When he sees Sulu twitching around Chekov turns to him. His eyes are big and bright in the dull moonlight through the roof of the tent. He looks like he hasn't slept at all. Kirk is snoring heartily.
Chekov reaches over to touch Sulu's sleeve. His hand lingers there as if he doesn't know what to do next, though he doesn't seem nervous but rather eerily calm. Sulu rolls onto his side and takes Chekov's hand, kissing it very softly, across his knuckles and then down to his wrist. Sulu wants to tell him that he's glad to be here, that if Chekov has to be stranded Sulu is grateful to be stranded along with him. Back on the Enterprise, everyone will think that they're dead. Sulu couldn't have borne that, all the uncertainty and fear about Chekov's safety. He's glad, too, that Chekov isn't stuck on the ship, worrying about him. That he doesn't have to live out this ordeal without Chekov.
Sulu doesn't say anything, and Chekov scoots closer, stopping just a few inches short of pressing his face to Sulu's. He pushes his knees against the edge of Sulu's sleeping bag and reaches for Sulu's hand, then kisses it the same way Sulu kissed his. Sulu's cock stirs when he thinks about how he could teach Chekov everything, that Chekov would eagerly and adorably imitate him: the way he kisses, the way he sucks cock. He wants Chekov so badly that he flushes, the inside of his sleeping bag baking with the heat of his body.
"Hikaru," Chekov whispers. "I can't sleep."
"I know," Sulu says. "C'mere."
He pulls Chekov to him, and he can feel Chekov hesitate, thinking of Kirk, but he pushes his face against Sulu's chest anyway, sighing and closing his eyes as Sulu strokes his hair. Sulu expects Chekov to fall asleep like this, but it's Sulu who falls asleep with his fingers tangled in Chekov's curls, and when he wakes up Chekov is on the other side of the tent again.
*
The first day is busy and long and very hot. Chekov works with the communication equipment he managed to salvage from the shuttle, his tongue poking from between his lips and his brow furrowed as he makes delicate adjustments to the chips and wires. Sulu and Kirk construct the beginnings of a shelter, shouting at each other and throwing tools around in frustration. It shouldn't be this hard for two people with degrees in advanced astrophysics to construct a fucking box made of wood, but between rationing supplies from the replicator and Kirk's eschewing of measuring anything there are plenty of roadblocks. It doesn't help that they're both starving.
"We should look for some edible vegetation," Chekov says.
"How the hell will we know if it's edible or not?" Sulu asks, and then he feels bad. His head is still pounding; he feels like he's close to going crazy, and they haven't been here for twenty-four hours.
"I can preform some tests, as I did with the water," Chekov says. Sulu nods apologetically. Kirk groans.
"What about some meat?" Kirk says. "We could kill a boar or something."
"Yeah, I'm sure this place is just lousy with boars," Sulu says with a scoff, though actually it's possible. The planet has proven very Earth-like so far, aside from the uncanny purple-green color of its sky.
"I mean boar equivalents," Kirk says. "Or whatever, maybe something chicken-like. Everybody okay with me pulling a bow and arrow out of this thing?" he asks, gesturing to the replicator.
"Fine by me," Sulu says, because he's actually a pretty good archer and it will be a chance to show off.
They find no animals available to kill, but they do find a tree full of slender fruit with dark red skin, and Chekov determines it to probably be edible.
"I'll try it first," Sulu says. "Then we'll wait an hour, and if I'm not dead, you two can eat."
"I should do it," Kirk says, yanking the fruit out of Sulu's hand. "I'm the Captain. I'm responsible for your lives. And it is kind of my fault. Kind of. That we're here."
"You just want to eat first," Sulu says, smirking as Kirk picks a piece of the fruit's flesh out from the peel. It's firmish and white, and actually looks really appetizing, considering how hungry they all are. Chekov crosses his arms over his chest, looking nervous as Kirk pops the fruit into his mouth. Kirk chews loudly, nodding.
"It's bland," he says. "But not disgusting or anything. It's kinda like a potato banana?"
"Yum," Sulu says with a snort. "Here, give me a piece."
"I thought we were going to wait an hour?"
"Fuck it, I'm hungry."
They eat hungrily and without talking, and Chekov surprises everyone by eating more than Sulu and Kirk. There's a sense of trepidation when they're through, all of them waiting for something terrible to happen, but the worst they get is stomach cramps from eating too fast. They sit by their partially constructed shelter and stare at it, sweating and waiting for their bodies to turn the fruit into energy.
"How's it coming with the communicator?" Kirk asks Chekov.
"Not very good, Keptin. The parts I took are compromised, not working. But I will keep trying."
"'Atta boy. Don't worry. We'll figure something out." Kirk elbows Sulu. "Right?" he says, as if he and Sulu are Chekov's parents and they need to stand united in comforting him with what are probably lies. Sulu grunts noncommittally. He doesn't like it when other people treat Chekov like a child who needs protection. Only Sulu should be allowed to treat him that way, and under the right circumstances. He imagines what it would be like to take Chekov's virginity, how terrified he would be of hurting him, and how sort of honored he would be, too. They would both tremble and it would take hours and Chekov's eyes would fall half-closed and go unfocused --
"Sulu!" Kirk shouts. "Did the potato bananas make you deaf?" He actually sounds a little sincerely worried that they might have.
"Huh? No. What is it?"
"I asked you if you're ready to get back to work."
"Oh, sure." Sulu glances at Chekov guiltily, but Chekov is seemingly deep in thought, frowning as he contemplates a charred data chip.
By the end of the day, the shelter's walls and floor are constructed, the tent they slept in the night before serving as a temporary roof. Chekov has gotten nowhere with the communicator, and he seems frustrated, sitting quietly with his shoulders slumped and his face drawn. Sulu builds a fire and Kirk treks off to gather some more fruit for dinner. When he's gone, Sulu gets up and sits beside Chekov.
"I need parts I cannot get from the replicator," Chekov says. "Without them, I do not know -- I do not know what will happen to us." He looks at Sulu sadly, as if he's failed to save everyone. He's saved Kirk and Sulu before, and Sulu wants to tell him that he doesn't owe either of them anything more, and should in fact hate them both equally for their roles in getting him into this mess, but he only puts his arm around Chekov's shoulders.
"It's okay," Sulu says. "At least we're together. And we could have landed on a much less hospitable planet."
"You talk as if we are here for good," Chekov says glumly.
"I'm not saying that, just that while we're waiting to be rescued, this set up isn't bad, you know?"
Chekov groans a little and presses his face against Sulu's neck, which feels so good, not only the heat of Chekov's cheeks but the gesture itself, sweet and needy and already so natural, as if they didn't waste a year on board the Enterprise pretending that they hadn't been falling in love with each other since they first took her out to space together. Sulu pulls Chekov closer and kisses his temple very softly, then checks over his shoulder to make sure Kirk isn't already on his way back. When he looks back, Chekov is watching his face, his head tilted a bit and his eyelids heavy, lips parted. He clearly wants to be kissed, hard, on the mouth, the way Sulu kissed him before they boarded the shuttle for this nightmare mission. Sulu feels suddenly nervous, because they've only done this once before, and Kirk could catch them, but he's not sure when they'll get the chance to be alone again. Chekov scoots even closer, and he's warm against Sulu's side, damp with sweat.
"You're right," Chekov says. "It is not so bad, if we must be here. We are together." His face turns red as he speaks, somehow making his freckles more obvious. Sulu almost moans with the need to kiss him. Chekov whimpers into Sulu's mouth as Sulu licks his lips apart, and Sulu swallows it up, so hungry for this that he's worried he'll frighten Chekov, but Chekov is breathing harshly into Sulu and clinging so hard to his shirt that Sulu is afraid it will tear. Every time Chekov's tongue brushes across the tip of Sulu's it's like being struck by lightening, and Sulu wants it again and again, until he's nothing but a pile of ashes.
"Pavel," Sulu says softly, pressing his face to Chekov's as they catch their breath. Just being able to say Chekov's name feels like a privilege, and Sulu can't believe how happy he is, despite everything, and how little the reality of their bleak situation seems to matter when he's holding Chekov like this, the pale green of his eyes blanking out the rest of the landscape.
"When we are rescued, when we can be alone, I think I want to sleep in your bed," Chekov says, very quietly and with his cheeks still blazing. This time Sulu does groan, because he can't take it, how much he wants Chekov and how perfectly Chekov keeps offering himself up. Sulu kisses him again, pulling him almost into his lap, and when Chekov yelps and jerks away Sulu knows it's because he's seen Kirk approaching. Sulu stands and pulls his hand through his hair, wondering how much Kirk saw. He's not sure why he's worried, except that now isn't really the best time to be preoccupied with romance. Though maybe Kirk couldn't really complain about that; he's been known to mix business and pleasure in the past. Of course, being stranded without communicators isn't exactly business as usual.
"Here we go," Kirk says, dumping an armload full of fruit on the ground near the fire. "You think the replicator could make spices?"
There's an awkward silence, and Sulu looks everywhere but at Chekov. He meets Kirk's eyes and sees understanding and forgiveness there, which he should have expected. Kirk smiles a little and shrugs.
"Spices," Chekov says dreamily, and Sulu can't help laughing out loud.
*
That night, there's a bad storm and they lose the roof of their makeshift hut. They stumble through the rain, looking for the caves they passed on the way out of the jungle, almost completely blinded by the driving rain and grasping at each other for traction. Chekov somehow loses a shoe, then slips and cuts his foot. Sulu is carrying him by the time they find the caves, his arms shaking with exhaustion.
"Bring him here," Kirk says when they're out of the rain. Kirk sets his flashlight down and unrolls the sleeping bag that he wrapped the replicator in. The replicator has gotten a little wet, and they all let out their breath in relief when it successfully produces bandages and towels. Chekov is shaking against Sulu's chest as Kirk bandages his foot, his lips bluish in the low light. As soon as Sulu opens his mouth to ask Kirk to get blankets for Chekov from the replicator he realizes he's already doing it.
"I am alright," Chekov says, grumbling and irritated by Sulu and Kirk's need to distract themselves from the hopeless muck of this situation by taking care of him as if he's an invalid or an infant or both. He wraps himself up in the blankets and hunches back against the wall of the cave, sighing heavily.
"We'll build a better roof tomorrow," Kirk says, and Sulu can't decide if he hates Kirk for being so goddamn obvious or loves him for remaining hopeful. For Sulu, it's always a little of both where Kirk is involved.
"Can you get some kind of heater from that thing?" Sulu asks, nodding to the replicator.
"A heater is too complex, these portable models cannot produce machines," Chekov says. Sulu already kind of knew that, but at least he's making conversation, so they don't have to sit around only dripping and shivering until the rain stops.
"I can make a fire," Kirk says. "Unless -- shit. This thing won't give me dry wood, will it?"
Chekov shakes his head. "It cannot produce organic materials," he says before tucking his head down against his knees, which he's drawn up to his chest. He's still shaking, and Sulu puts an arm around him.
"Let's at least get some dry clothes," he says.
They undress, Sulu feeling awkward and Kirk seemingly without a second thought, Chekov hiding under the blanket as he peels off his wet clothes. There is some scrambling toweling off and then they put on fresh clothes from the replicator; none of them fit quite right but it's better than freezing to death. The air inside the cave is frigid, and the temperature outside feels as if it dropped to below zero along when the rain shower began. Sulu can hear Chekov's teeth chattering in the darkness, and he gets more blankets from the replicator.
"We're going to wear this thing out faster than we thought we would," Sulu mutters as he wraps a third blanket around Chekov. The blankets the replicator produces aren't exactly heavy-duty or very warm; they're made from slippery synthetic material.
"If that's what it takes to survive, that's what we'll have to do," Kirk says. "Maybe we should make a list, tomorrow morning, of things to stockpile before the battery goes. You know, we could prioritize it and everything--"
"Captain, I think he's in shock," Sulu says, holding Chekov's shoulders and trying to get him to look up. "Pavel!" he says, shaking him. Chekov seems to be struggling to say something, but then his head just drops forward listlessly as he begins shaking harder. "Pavel -- fuck, he's freezing, he's --"
"Thermal sleeping bag," Kirk says to the replicator, cursing when what comes out looks as if it's hardly emergency-medicine grade. He unzips it and Sulu helps Chekov into it, his heart hammering and his mind unable to latch onto any remotely coherent thoughts, everything snagging on cold, primal fear. Just a few hours ago he was kissing Chekov. Just a few hours ago Chekov was so fucking warm.
"You need to strip," Kirk says when Chekov won't stop shaking and can't seem to open his eyes, his skin like ice when Sulu reaches into the pile of blankets he's wrapped in to check his pulse, which is sluggish. Sulu nods without thinking; this is one of those moments, and he's had them before, when he'll do anything Kirk asks of him without question. Sulu is not easily prone to panic, but in certain situations, like falling to his death at a thousand miles a minute or watching Chekov's freckled cheeks turn blue, he wouldn't want anybody but Kirk around to help him keep his shit together.
While Sulu pulls his freshly replicated clothes off, Kirk yanks the blankets away from Chekov and begins to undress him, too. Sulu knows what he has in mind, body heat, and it could work, but Chekov looks so small and white under Kirk's hands, and Sulu is terrified that he's not going to be able to save him.
"C'mon, hurry," Kirk says, leaving only Chekov's briefs in place, and Sulu should have thought to leave his own underwear on, but it's too late now and there's no time for modesty. He scrambles into the sleeping bag beside Chekov and pulls him into his arms as Kirk wraps the blankets around both of them and then zips the sleeping bag up to their ears. Chekov is like a block of ice in Sulu's arms, his eyes half-open and unfocused and his shoulders jerking as he shudders. Sulu pulls him as close to his chest as he can, his heart thundering and his own arms shaking with fear. Kirk gets a towel and rubs it through Chekov's hair, trying to get it as dry as possible.
"I don't know if it's working," Sulu says, his voice an embarrassing little tremble. "I'm pretty cold myself, and, and --"
"Here," Kirk says, and he brings the towel over to dry Sulu's hair as well. "Just give me a second. It'll be okay. Just hold on to him, and -- give me a second."
Sulu nods, tucking his head down against Chekov's icy forehead as hot tears begin to creep into the corners of his eyes. He feels like his hands and arms aren't big enough, like he can't cover enough of Chekov's skin with his. He's so paralyzed with the fear of losing Chekov that at first he hardly notices that Kirk's naked cock is swinging near his nose as he climbs down into the huddle of blankets with them.
"This'll help," Kirk says, and Sulu just nods again, because in the moment it does seem like a brilliant idea. Lightening flashes outside, illuminating the cave for a split second, then thunder that sounds like it could start an avalanche booms in accompaniment, echoing all around them. The sleeping bag can barely contain the three of them, especially with all the blankets, but Sulu can already feel a change in temperature as Kirk wraps himself around Chekov's back, one of his hands coming to rest on Sulu's neck, which seems to raise his own body temperature instantly.
"You're alright, Pavel," Kirk says, squeezing them all together even closer, his grip on Sulu's neck tightening. Something about his use of Chekov's first name breaks through Sulu's pure panic, and he begins to consider the strangeness of the situation. Still, if it helps Chekov recover, he'll dance the tango with Kirk, naked except for a tiara. He shuts his eyes and reaches around to pull Kirk more tightly against Chekov, as if that's even possible at this point. Kirk feels warmer than both of them, and seems so calm and sure, but when Sulu presses a thumb against Kirk's neck he can feel his pulse hammering.
Chekov sniffles against the hollow of Sulu's throat, and Sulu meets Kirk's eyes over Chekov's head, taking this as a good sign. Kirk grins a little, and Sulu gets a weird, sort of queasy feeling in his stomach. He looks down at Chekov, who is still shivering, though less violently now.
"Pavel?" he says softly, and Chekov sniffles again.
"He's okay," Kirk says, taking his hand from Sulu's neck to place it over the crown of Chekov's head. "Just let him rest. He's gonna be fine."
Sulu's vague queasy feeling shoots instantly into extreme annoyance. Don't tell me what to do with him, he thinks furiously. He feels like he's been tricked. Kirk, with his ridiculously huge cock, is lying naked against Sulu's maybe boyfriend's back, bringing him back to life when Sulu couldn't. Sulu knows he's an asshole for even thinking this and scoffs at himself, pressing a warm kiss against Chekov's forehead, partially to reassert his ownership. He can feel Kirk trying to meet his eyes but won't cooperate. He sighs hugely, moving all three of their bodies with it, and shuts his eyes, his hand curling into a fist on Kirk's back.
*
Sulu sleeps more deeply than he expected to, sweating against Chekov's chest as they all begin to grow warm inside the cocoon of blankets. Chekov makes soft noises of recovery in his sleep, and Kirk doesn't snore, so he must be awake. Sulu keeps his eyes closed until he can feel Chekov stirring in his arms like a chick trying to hatch. He opens his eyes and loosens his grip on Chekov, who rolls onto his back with a sigh. Kirk is already awake, propped up on an elbow as he looks down at Chekov, still so close. Too close. Sulu wants him gone, but Chekov doesn't seem as if he's in a hurry to get rid of Kirk or remove himself from the heat trapped between their bodies. He turns from Sulu to give Kirk a delirious little smile.
"I'm sorry," he says softly.
"Don't be sorry," Kirk and Sulu say at the same time, and Sulu finally meets Kirk's eyes then, which is like a punch in the stomach. Their faces are maybe four inches apart as they both lean up over Chekov. Sulu looks away from Kirk quickly, blushing. For some reason he feels like he's the only here who's naked.
"Should we - what should we do?" Sulu asks. Embarrassed by the question, he tells himself he shouldn't be; Kirk is still the Captain, the one who makes command decisions. Sulu slides his arm across Chekov's chest and closes his hand around Chekov's shoulder. Chekov moans a little and presses his face to Sulu's chest, shutting his eyes. A shudder of excitement moves through Sulu at the proximity of Chekov's heat-swollen rosebud lips to Sulu's rock hard nipple. He hates Kirk for seeing them together like this, when everything is still a first. This is the first time they've woken up pressed together, and the first time Sulu's semi-erect cock has been pressed to Chekov's bare thigh.
"He'll need protein," Kirk says.
"Great, so we should kill a boar?"
Chekov laughs, the puff of his hot breath against Sulu's nipple bringing his cock from semi- to almost fully erect. Chekov rolls against Sulu as if to hide Sulu's erection from Kirk, or maybe to press against it. Sulu swallows heavily, trying to will his arousal away, because he doesn't want the musky smell of Kirk's sleep-damp skin to have any part in it. He holds Chekov against him and sighs with relief as Kirk climbs out of the sleeping bag.
"I'll find some food and bring it here," Kirk says. He gets the canteen that he set outside the mouth of the cave - when did that happen? - and brings it to Chekov, who sits up in Sulu's arms and drinks the rainwater eagerly. Some water escapes from his mouth and rolls down his jaw, dripping onto his pale neck, and, oh, God, Sulu is hard.
"Thank you, Keptin," Chekov says, breathless from gulping the water as he hands the canteen back. He huddles in Sulu's arms and shivers a little. Every slight shift of his body makes Sulu's cock throb, and he doesn't like the feeling that it's got something to do with having an audience. He kisses Chekov's forehead and listens to the sound of Kirk dressing, buckling his belt and zipping his fly.
"Sure is a lot warmer with that sun out," Kirk says. He's probably embarrassed, too, acting awkwardly, which Sulu didn't think was possible. "I'll be back in a jiffy with something for you to eat, Pavel," he says.
"Hikaru," Chekov whispers as Kirk walks off with his pack slung over his shoulder. Chekov tips his face up to Sulu's and bats his lashes as if he's about to say something very serious. "What does this mean, 'jiffy?'"
"It's an old slang word for 'fast,'" Sulu says. He laughs a little and kisses Chekov's nose.
"Oh! I thought it was vehicle of some kind."
Sulu smiles against Chekov's forehead and pulls him closer, relaxing into the feeling of holding him now that Kirk is gone. He arranges the blankets around Chekov's exposed shoulder, though Kirk is right, it's much warmer now.
"You really scared the shit out of me," Sulu says, not sure if he should make a joke about his erection or just pretend that it's not there.
"I'm sorry." Chekov kisses Sulu's neck timidly. "Hikaru." His hand skims down over Sulu's bare side. "Do you really think the Keptin will be back -- jiffy?"
"In a jiffy. And I doubt it, he's got no idea what he's even looking for. Why?"
Chekov shrugs and looks up at Sulu, giving him a bashful smile. Sulu kisses him, reminding himself to be gentle, that Chekov is still weak. Chekov shifts and Sulu laughs into his mouth when he realizes that Chekov is hard, too.
"You should save your strength," Sulu whispers.
"You make me feel strong," Chekov says. He humps against Sulu's thigh, and Sulu chews the tip of his tongue to keep from bursting into nervous, hysterical laughter. Chekov is so, so young, nervous and clumsy and eager, and Sulu is kissing him probably harder than he should.
"Do you think we will escape this place?" Chekov asks, his lips still pressed to Sulu's. He sounds excited by the idea that they might not, and terrified, too, his breath coming fast.
"Yes," Sulu says.
"Why?"
"I don't know. Because you and Kirk are here. You're the smartest guy I know, and he's the luckiest."
"Luckiest, Hikaru?" Chekov smirks. "You think there is no skill and intelligence involved in the Keptin's luck?"
"Fine, he's really impressive." This goes a long way toward killing Sulu's hardon, but Chekov laughs impishly and wraps his hand around it, and Sulu groans, thrusting into Chekov's grip.
"I was not scared last night," Chekov says, watching Sulu's blissed-out face with open wonder as he strokes him. "Because you were here. I knew you would take care of me."
"And that Kirk would." Sulu doesn't really want to pursue this line of thinking while Chekov's hand is on his dick, but he can't help it.
"Yes," Chekov says. He sits up on his elbow and puts his mouth on Sulu's ear, licking at the lobe with his hot little tongue, melting Sulu to nothing. "I knew you two would take care of me, because you both owed me one, da?"
Sulu laughs and nods, bucking up into Chekov's hand and reaching around to touch his ass, which feels vaguely illegal, but Chekov moans happily when Sulu rubs him there. Sulu feels very young and dumbly eager himself, not sure what to do first as Chekov licks his way down his neck and into the hollow of his throat.
"I seriously didn't plan on molesting you the morning after you almost died," Sulu says, panting, getting close as Chekov's grip on him tightens.
"I -- ah -- did not plan, either, but you were so hard against me, Hikaru, bozhe moi, felt good."
Sulu growls and pins Chekov, forgetting his fragility and grinding down against him, making him gasp and hump upward desperately. Chekov is nodding wildly, as if Sulu needs encouragement, his lust-blown eyes locked on Sulu's.
"This is what you do when you are happy to be alive," Chekov says, grabbing Sulu's arms and bracing himself on them as he ruts up against him, their cocks rubbing together crazily until Chekov moans and arches, his head flung back as his hot come paints Sulu's stomach. Sulu reaches down and grabs his own cock, staring at Chekov's twitching, pink, fucking gorgeous dick as the last of his come dribbles from the tip. Sulu comes with his teeth gritted, feeling like he'll die from it as he watches his seed splash across Chekov's flushed skin. He sinks down, gluing himself against Chekov and kissing him, both of them breathless, Chekov's hands still tight around Sulu's biceps.
"God," Sulu whispers, rubbing his nose against Chekov's. They're both breathing hard, chests heaving together. "I wish I had a picture of you just like you are right now."
Chekov grins. "Covered in your come?" he says. "Malnourished, half-dead?"
"Helpless," Sulu says, whispering it down into Chekov's mouth. "Mine."
Chekov pushes out a little whimper, and Sulu swallows it down. They're still kissing, lazy and hot, when Sulu hears someone clear his throat. Kirk. Right. Sulu had actually managed to forget all about him for a moment.
"Shit," Sulu whispers, wincing. Chekov's eyes are huge, his heart pounding against Sulu's chest.
"Uh," Kirk says. "You want me to --?"
"I didn't -- that was fast," Sulu says.
"Yeah," Kirk agrees with a snort, and Sulu burns with anger, wondering how much he saw, or overheard.
"I got some of those potato bananas, and some snails,” Kirk says. “I tested one of the snails, so. Not poisonous."
Chekov is staring up at Sulu, his cheeks burning, eyes wide. Sulu shakes his head as if to tell him not to worry about it.
"Well -- we'll get dressed and meet you outside the cave, alright?" Sulu says, his words a little sharp, because Kirk might have offered this plan himself instead of just standing there like an idiot.
"Alright," Kirk says, and he's quickly gone. Sulu lets out his breath and Chekov drapes an arm over his eyes dramatically.
"Hikaru," he whispers. "I feel terrible."
"Don't -- why? I'm the one taking advantage of a teenager. I'm sure that's how he sees it, anyway." Sulu gropes around near the sleeping bag and finds Chekov's clothes, passing them to him.
"Yes, but -- we -- sent him to get food for us while we did this thing together. Is a little rude, I think."
"I guess." Sulu uses one of the blankets to clean Chekov's chest and then his own. "But I wouldn't worry about Kirk getting offended if you and I -- take advantage of our time alone together. Hell, he's more likely to ask for a threesome than get all sensitive about being left out."
"Hikaru!" Chekov says, wrinkling his nose.
"Too soon?" Hikaru says with a smirk, and Chekov smacks his arm, grinning.
They go outside, the air having the humid, murky quality of the day after a very significant event, in this case the storm that almost killed Chekov. Among other things. Kirk is leaning against the rocky cliff wall outside the mouth of the cave, staring off into the distance, the sack of food hanging on his shoulder. He's chewing on a snail, and he throws its shell into the rocks as Sulu and Chekov make their way over.
"Thank you, Keptin," Chekov says before Kirk has even offered him any food. Chekov is blushing brilliantly and Sulu probably is, too; his whole body feels itchy and overheated. He wishes he could pull Chekov into a hot shower and wash him and do it all over again, a marathon of sex and naps, hot water and soap. He accepts a potato banana from Kirk and shakes his head at the snails, which are sliming around blindly at the bottom of Kirk's sack.
"They're not bad," Kirk says. Sulu watches Chekov eat one, and he can see that he's trying not to show his disgust for the texture.
"Protein," Kirk says. He does seem a little moody, but probably just because he didn't sleep.
They walk back down through the valley to inspect the remains of their camp. The hut is still mostly intact, though the walls will need to be patched in places and the roof will need to be completely rebuilt. Sulu and Kirk go to work immediately, refusing to let Chekov help. He sits wrapped in the blanket that Sulu used to wipe up their come and stares out at the ocean, which is still a little wild from the storm.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Kirk asks when he and Sulu head into the forest to get more wood. Sulu turns and frowns, thinking he's misheard him.
"Huh?"
"That -- whatever you were doing -- in the cave? Are you crazy?"
Kirk isn't looking at Sulu. He's holding an ax and pushing against the trunk of a thin tree as if he's checking to make sure it's sturdy enough to qualify.
"Maybe you should get some sleep," Sulu says sharply. Kirk turns to glare at him.
"Is that an order?"
"Jesus." Sulu's face is burning. He's aware that he's acting like an idiot, and Kirk has every right to call him on it. He shakes his head and stares up at the swaying treetops.
"I just don't know what you were thinking, Hikaru," Kirk says. He takes a swing at the tree, wood splintering from it. "This is not the fucking time."
"I know. I'm sorry. There was nakedness involved, okay?"
"Yeah, no kidding. Some of us were able to control ourselves."
"Well -- you're not -- you don't see him -- that way. Do you?"
"Fuck no." Kirk turns to glare at him again. Sulu isn't sure why he feels like he's winning this fight -- because he's the one who came all over Chekov's chest this morning?
"He's practically a child," Kirk says, muttering. He turns back to the tree and hammers at it with the ax. Sulu just stands there holding the lathe he'll use to make boards from the trunk, wondering if he should go back to the replicator and get another ax. Kirk is wailing on the tree like it has personally offended him.
"He was the one egging me on," Sulu says, maybe bragging a little. "But -- I know -- you're right about the timing being bad. I'm sorry, okay? Jesus, take a breath."
Kirk stops and pants, stumbling backward a little, the ax still lodged in the tree trunk. Sulu catches Kirk's shoulders and steadies him. Kirk's skin is burning like radiation under his shirt. His sweat smells a little bit like the snails.
"You need to get some sleep," Sulu says, giving his back a pat. Kirk bends over and puts his hands on his knees, panting down at the ground.
"Fuck," he says, huffing the word out. "It's my fault we're stuck here. This whole thing's my fault."
"It's not -- if I'd have flown smarter --"
A cracking sound silences Sulu, and he grabs Kirk's arm, pulling him away from the tree, which topples toward the earth with the ear-splitting sound of shredding wood. Kirk pushes Sulu down to a crouching position and huddles around him, needing to protect somebody from something, as ever. Apparently saving Chekov's life last night wasn't enough. Sulu looks up once the dust has settled, branches still rattling irritably, the tree lying diagonally across the ground behind them.
Sulu doesn't want to continue the argument about Chekov, so he just sits on the ground with his hands slumped between his legs and stares at the tree. Kirk does the same. Sulu feels like now might be the time for hysterical laughter, the kind that bubbles out after a near-death experience, but nothing comes. They sit there for awhile like they're waiting for the tree to get up and walk away.
"No, but you shouldn't feel bad," Kirk says after the insects have begun to sing again. "About wanting him. I just thought, before, that you were actually fucking. But you weren't, right?"
"Of course not." Sulu's face burns as he tries to imagine the view Kirk had: Sulu on top of Chekov inside the sleeping bag, the muscles on Sulu's back moving as he ground his hips down, Chekov panting and squeezing his arms.
"Good. But I should have known you'd end up together. You're both so --" Kirk holds up his hand and makes a gesture like a bird flying away, or something blowing off carelessly into the wind.
"So what?"
"I don't know. I had this aunt who thought she could see people's auras. I think I know what she meant. It's not a literal thing -- you can only see the light someone gives off, or doesn't, after you've gotten to know them. Like Bones, his is all bluish and smoky like a dive bar. Uhura's is kind of fiery, and, like, clean? And you and Pavel, you have this superhuman brilliant white light that hurts to look at. But it's just as vulnerable as it is powerful? Or something? Like something you want to protect."
Sulu stares until Kirk looks back, and then they both laugh hard, Sulu's cheeks aching with it.
"Those snails clearly have hallucinogenic properties," Sulu says. He stands and offers Kirk a hand. "Let's go back and make sure Pavel isn't trying to walk on water or something."
Kirk grins and stares at the ground as they walk. Sulu didn't realize that Kirk was the saddest person he'd ever met until they'd been in space together for six months and he noticed the way Kirk looks at Bones and Uhura and even Spock, like he's dying to be loved best of all by every one of them, even when he's being hard on them, maybe especially then. Sulu never thought Kirk's neediness extended to Chekov, and certainly not to Sulu. Kirk has always seemed to class the two of them differently, as if they're slightly irritating younger brothers who he needs to keep in line.
They get back to the camp and find Chekov curled up inside the blanket and sleeping peacefully, his back to an embankment of rocks that protects him from the wind off the ocean. Sulu kisses his cheek and nudges him until he wakes up a little.
"You okay?" he whispers. Chekov blinks up at him and smiles.
"Did I fall asleep?" he asks.
"It's okay. But come with us, alright? It's not safe for you to sleep out here by yourself."
Chekov moans a little and stands. Sulu thinks he knows what Kirk is talking about, actually: Bones with his bluish smoke, Uhura with her sharp fire, and Pavel almost too bright and pure to look at directly. Sulu just doesn't understand how Kirk can see him that way, too. Sulu is nothing like Chekov. He's not open or innocent, and is rarely full of wonder the way that Chekov is, observing before judging.
They get another ax from the replicator and return to the felled tree. Chopping it into chunks and hauling them back to the camp takes the remainder of the day, and they have to stop twice to eat potato bananas for energy. By the time the sun starts to set Sulu is exhausted, and he stretches out on his back on a mossy hill that overlooks the camp, catching his breath and staring up at the sky as its colors change with the coming night. Chekov is even more exhausted than he is, and almost as soon as he lies down beside Sulu, resting his head on Sulu's chest, he's asleep again.
Sulu turns to look down at the camp, where Kirk is starting a fire. He's sluggish in his movements, and Sulu hopes there will be no fresh disasters tonight so that Kirk can get some rest.
"Ain't that a pretty picture?" Kirk says, looking up at Sulu and Chekov. Sulu smirks and looks away, embarrassed. The wind is getting colder. He curls his arm more tightly around Chekov's shoulder, and Chekov whines a little under his breath with the disturbance, as if he's afraid Sulu will make him get up.
"This is what I used to do when I was a kid," Sulu says when Kirk walks up onto the hill to sit beside them.
"What? Stare at the sky?"
"Yeah. For hours. Daydreaming. My mom thought I was going to be a philosopher or something, like I was having deep thoughts. I was just thinking about being up there."
"I'm sure you've never had a deep thought," Kirk says. He grins and leans back on his elbows. His shirt is soaked down the front with sweat, and Sulu's is, too. Chekov is damp; they all smell horrible.
"I guess we should, like, bathe at some point," Sulu says.
"Suggestion noted. We need to finish that roof tomorrow."
"Yep."
Kirk leans back all the way, moaning as if it hurts to do so, and it probably does. Sulu's back is killing him. He can't remember the last time he had reason to do this much manual labor.
"We could have landed on worse planets," Kirk says. "Or nowhere."
"Is that some kind of thank you?"
"I guess so. To both of you. Though, really, we all just got lucky. Surviving that crash alone."
Sulu is deflated by the reminder of the crash just as easily as Kirk's previous comment puffed him up. This is how Kirk has always been with Sulu: supporting him, then putting him in his place.
"Do we get to name this planet, then?" Sulu says. He's scratching slow fingers through Chekov's curls, and he makes himself stop, because it seems like something he shouldn't do in front of Kirk, though it was kind of nice, showing someone else how well he can care for Chekov now that he's allowed to, letting it out in the open at last.
"Yeah," Kirk says. "I say we do. What should we call it?"
"I don't know. Maybe we could combine our names somehow."
"First names or last names?"
"Last names, right? Like." Sulu pauses to think. "Sucheki."
"Oh, you get to be first, huh? Sucheki? That sounds like some kind of lame card game. How about -- Kirkulukov?"
"Yeah, that's much more dignified."
They laugh, waking Chekov, who sits up and rubs at his face like a little boy. He looks over at Kirk and then back at Sulu as if to ask them what's going on.
"How about Chekuluirk?" Sulu says, tucking a curl behind Chekov's ear.
"What?" Chekov asks blearily.
"I like that, actually," Kirk says. "But it should be 'Check-ooh-lehrk.' That sounds more, I don't know. Professional."
"Professional?"
"Cultured."
"What are you talking about?" Chekov asks, sounding a little distressed, and Sulu can't help laughing hard along with Kirk. He pulls Chekov back down to him and kisses his ear in apology.
"May the gods of Chekuluirk send us something other than potato bananas and ass snails for dinner," Sulu says.
"Ass snails?" Kirk says, still laughing hard, Chekov giggling a little now, too.
"That's what they taste like."
They boil their dirty clothes and replicate new ones. There's a discussion about how many sets of clothing each of them should have, but no conclusion is reached. They fry potato bananas for dinner, and they taste much better this way, sweeter.
The sky is clear, and they sleep in their roofless hut, very deeply, Sulu curled around Chekov and Kirk on his back on the other side of the hut, snoring like a champion.
*
Part II